


Not About Angels

by candy_and_writing



Series: Not About Angels [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Past Rape/Non-con, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Slavery, Smut, Soft! Bucky, Torture, Vaginal Fingering, allusions to and mentions of ptsd, allusions to and mentions of torture, allusions to rape, hurt reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:33:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24972361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candy_and_writing/pseuds/candy_and_writing
Summary: While on a mission to take out a HYDRA base, the Avengers find someone they never expected to. She's scared, traumatized, and helping her seems almost helpless. But two certain supersoldiers won't give on her.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: Not About Angels [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807528
Comments: 5
Kudos: 81





	Not About Angels

**Author's Note:**

> This is for crushedbyhyperbole's 200 follwer challenge on Tumblr. I picked the prompt "darker than the devil himself" and it will be in bold. Feel free to leave kudos and comments to tell me you liked this story!

You wake to the sound of an explosion. It rattles the solid concrete walls, causing the old metal bed frame you're laying on jostle. You can hear gunshots, people yelling in both Russian and English. You go to move off the bed but are stopped by the chain around your wrist.

 _Shit_.

The shouting gets louder and louder until a gun goes off in front of your room, the bullet breaking the lock off the door. The metal door is pushed open and a man marches in, gun in hand and a stern look on his face. You've seen him before, you realize, a long time ago. With his long dark hair and striking blue eyes. The soldier with the metal arm.

His shoulders relax as he lowers the gun, his gaze fixed on you as his eyes soften in confusion. You stay rooted on the bed, your knees drawn up and your hands at your sides.

"You aren't a soldier, are you," he says like he already knew the answer to the question. You shake your head carefully, your eyes wide as you watch him approach you. You're tempted to move back, but you don't. Something—against your better judgment—keeps you rooted in place. You watch him grip the chain connecting you to the bed and snap it, letting you free. "C'mon, we don't got a lot of time. You got a coat?"

You shake your head again and he sighs, grabbing the thin blanket off your bed and wrapping it around your shoulders. He takes your hand, pulling you out of the room.

There are bodies everywhere. Blood everywhere else. You step in it, your bare feet trailing sticky red footprints in your wake.

You had never been to this part of the base before, so close to the entrance. Your room was far below ground and you only left to take a shower. It was cold up here.

You stop at the threshold of the base, watching the man with the metal arm step out into the snow. He stopped when he realized you weren't following him.

"What's wrong?" You looked uncertainly down at your feet, then at the snow before you met his eyes. "Oh."

He started marching back towards you and your heart skipped a beat, knowing you had done something wrong. You took a quick step into the snow, the cold biting at your bare toes.

"Hey!" The soldier scooped you up into his arms. "You're not wearing any shoes, doll. You're gonna give yourself frostbite."

The soldier was warm, unnaturally so, in the cold weather and thick tactical gear. You hugged the blanket tighter over yourself, trying to make yourself smaller in the larger man's arms.

He carried you to a large jet and marched up the steps. You felt eyes on you once you entered the ship and you curled into the crook of the soldier's arm, attempting to hide yourself.

"Oh, look," a voice scoffed. "Barnes found a pet."

"Clint," a woman hissed.

"Buck, what's going on? Who is she?"

"I don't know," the soldier said. "I found her locked up in the lower part of the base. I think she—" he paused, looking down at you. "She's scared."

"Set her down," another man said.

You were shaking as the soldier carefully put you down on the ground. You took a quick look around the ship and saw that you were surrounded by people. A man in a metal suit stood out the most.

You clutched to the soldier's arm as he crouched down next to you, trying to hide behind him.

"Where did you say she was?" a woman asked, her hair a fiery red.

"Behind a locked room in the lower part of the base," the soldier said, looking behind him at the woman. She watched you as you kept your eyes on the floor, not daring to look at them.

"The poor thing looks like she hasn't eaten in days," another woman noted, her accent thick.

You almost looked up at her, the soft tone of her voice surprising you. You don't remember the last time someone had spoken so softly to you like that.

"Her blood pressure is dangerously high," a man said, stepping closer to you. Your breath caught in your throat as he reached out for your arm. You knew the drill better by instinct than by actual will—don't move until you're told to, don't speak unless permitted, don't make eye contact unless they _want_ you to.

A whimper escapes your lips as the strange man grabs your arm. " _Soldat_ _,_ " the broken cry slips passed your lips before you could stop it.

That caught the soldier's attention. He held his flesh hand out, his brows furrowed, stopping the man. The man let go of your arm, stepping away from you as he apologized. "Do you know me?"

He stood in front of you, trying to coax you to look at him. You refused, locking your gaze on your bare feet.

"It's okay," the soldier said gently. "We're not gonna hurt ya, okay? You're safe, I promise. I just need you to talk to me."

"Я не разрешаено," you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

"What'd she say?" someone asked.

"She said she's not allowed," the redhead translated.

"You're allowed," Bucky assured you, "I promise you. You can talk to us, we won't hurt you."

You swallowed thickly, your hands shaking as you clenched them tightly into fists. They didn't like it when you were scared.

' _Don't talk to him,'_ a voice in your head rang.

' _He won't hurt you, he hadn't before_ ,' another reasoned.

"Do you know English?" You nodded. "Can you speak in English? So the others can understand you?"

"They told me not to," you rasped. Your accent was thick, you wondered if they could even understand you.

"Who?" the woman asked. Her arms were crossed, as though she was disappointed.

_'You said the wrong thing. She's mad at you.'_

You shrunk in on yourself, hugging yourself as you stared at a line in the flooring.

"Hey, don't close up, doll," the soldier said. "Talk to us. What's the matter?"

You stole a quick glance at him before answering. "Она рассердилась на меня."

"Who? Natasha?" He looked over his shoulder at the redhead before looking back at you. You nodded.

"I'm not angry with you," the redhead—Natasha—said, stepping closer to you. "I'm just. . . trying to figure you out."

You frowned, swallowing a shuddering breath. "You are Natasha Romanova, the Black Widow?"

"You know me?"

You shrugged. "The men talk about you. You are the Avengers?"

The soldier nodded. "We are."

"What men?" Natasha asked.

"T-The men that came into my room. Sometimes, if there were more than one of them, they would discuss things. Their work."

"Do you know who they are?" the man with a shield asked. You swallowed thickly, nodding.

"One of the men was on the floor." You dared to look at the soldier. "You killed him. . . didn't you."

"What's your name, doll?" the soldier asked you, changing the subject. Though the guilt in his eyes gave you the answer you needed to know.

You frowned at that, unsure. No one had called you by name in. . . since HYDRA had taken you. What _was_ your name?

It was on the tip of your tongue, so close yet so far away.

You were hesitant when you told him, still so unsure.

He repeated your name, like he was testing the way it felt on his tongue. "That's a pretty name. I'm Bucky."

_Bucky. That's a funny name._

Your eyelids started to feel heavy. You blinked furiously, trying to fight the sleepy feeling taking over.

"We should let her rest," Natasha said. You nodded, hugging the blanket tighter to your body as you laid on the floor, curling your knees to your chest. You jolted when you felt fingers brush against your wrist.

"Relax, doll," Bucky said, "I'm just gonna look."

You let him take your wrist in his hand. His fingers gently brushed over dark purple bruises that encircled your wrist. You winced, trying to pull away from him.

"It's okay, doll, it's okay. I'm gonna put some salve on it and it'll help it heal, okay?"

You nodded, watched him as he squeezed a little dollop of gel on his fingertips, rubbing it into your skin. It was cold, freezing your skin so much you shivered.

"How long were you tied up like that?" Bucky asked.

You shrugged simply, not actually knowing the answer. It could've been a few hours, or it could've been days. You never could tell.

You let yourself relax. You closed your eyes, exhaustion crashing over you and it wasn't long until sleep took over.

* * *

_You had been prepped beforehand. Given a cold shower and a brush run through your hair. The simple cotton nightgown was thin and barely reached the middle of your thigh. The artificial slick the man had spread in between your legs was cold, as it always was. You think you would get used to it by now. You sat obediently on the edge of the bed, hands folded in your lap._

_When the door opened, you perked up but didn't dare look. You heard footsteps, then the door closed._

_"Your reward, Soldat," a man spoke, his English almost foreign to your ears._

_A reward. . . . Is that what you were? You didn't feel like much of anything._

_The handler left, leaving you and the soldier alone. He stalked toward you; you kept your eyes downcast as he stood in front of you, thumb and forefinger cupping your jaw with a surprising amount of gentleness._

_"Посмотрите на меня," he said. Look at me. You obeyed, your eyes meeting his carefully. He was large, his shoulders wide as he stared you down, his features expressionless—all but his eyes. His eyes were dark. Demented._

_Haunted._

_"Улечься," he instructed. Lie down._

_Your back hit the mattress before you finished contemplating his words. You bent your knees together at an angle, hands resting at either side of your head. You watched him, not daring to blink._

_His flesh fingers grazed up your legs, pulling your knees apart. The chill of the air brushed against your bare center, a shiver dancing down your spine._

_The soldier's gaze darkened in the shadows of your quarters. In the shadows, his eyes seemed_ _**darker than the devil himself.** _ _He hiked your gown up past your hips, his flesh fingers delicate as he inserted two fingers into your cunt. He spread the slick around your lips, glancing up at you when you let out a whimper._

_He seemed to hesitate when his hand reached for his belt. He saw the fear in your eyes, the way your hands shook. He blinked—once, twice—like he woke from a trance._

_"Вы боитесь," he muttered. You are afraid. What could you say to that? The men never liked it when you were afraid._

_When you didn't respond, guilt seeped into his eyes._

_"_ _Вы_ _боитесь_ _меня_ _." You're afraid of me._

 _You shook your head. "_ _Нет_ _,_ _Солдат_ _."_ _No,_ _Soldat_ _._

_He got up then, crawling off the bed. You sat up, worry alive in your veins. You had to fix this. If he left without having you—oh, God, you could only imagine what would happen to you._

_"Подождать—" You tried to get up, to reach out to him, but he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder._ Wait—

_"Спать," he said. Sleep. You frowned. You didn't want to sleep, you wanted to do your duty._

_"Вы не хотите. . . ?" your timid voice was barely above a whisper._ _Doesn't he want—?_

_"Спать," he repeated._

_You gave up, laying back down as the soldier pulled the blanket up to your chest. You let out a sigh, closing your eyes as the soldier sat at your feet, his shoulders rigid. You turned on your side, letting yourself relax in the soldier's presence._

_"Спать. Я не буду вам больно." I will not hurt you._

_His presence was eerily calming. You were able to fall asleep quickly despite the anxiety biting at your nerves. When you awoke, the soldier was gone._


End file.
